


The Myth of Trust

by Luka



Series: Firestorm [6]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 19:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19091953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Ryan's loyalties are divided after he and Stephen make an unwelcome discovery.





	The Myth of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sixth story in the Firestorm series – it takes place after the Iceman sequence. Many thanks to Fredbassett for the loan of Lyle, Ditzy, Blade and Kermit (all Special Forces OCs). Other OCs, including Major Preston and the fitness centre crew, are mine.

Ryan knew he was yelling and cheering like a madman, but he really didn't care. Stephen had overtaken three more runners and now there was just the leader between him and the finishing line. The hall was in uproar as the two battled it out for supremacy, and Ryan could scarcely bear to watch as Stephen lost out by a matter of inches.

"Just had too much to do," said the young woman next to him, tucking flyaway blonde hair behind her ears.

"Yeah." Ryan watched as Stephen shook hands with the winner and then accepted the congratulations of those finishing behind him. It was only Stephen's sixth pentathlon. He'd been in second place after the shooting, fencing and swimming, but hadn't done well in the riding and had started the final event – the cross-country run – back in tenth. But his superior fitness had showed as he'd overhauled most of those in front of him. By finishing second he was guaranteed selection for the European Championships in two months time.

"D'you know him?"

"He's my partner." As Ryan said it, he realised how neither of them made any effort now to disguise their relationship. But he wondered briefly how Stephen's sexuality would be viewed in the world of top-level pentathlon.

The woman grinned. "Lucky you. He's gorgeous."

"Yep."

"And that's Jason, my bloke, who he's just beaten into third place. I'm Nat, by the way."

"Ryan."

They shook hands. Nat said: "Stephen's done well. It's like he's come from nowhere all of a sudden."

"He fenced and shot to a high standard in his 20s and was in line then for an Olympic place."

"So what happened? He's streets ahead of the others in those two disciplines."

Ryan shrugged. "You'd have to ask him. I don't think pentathlon ever occurred to him until a mate of ours mentioned it."

"Looks like he's found his niche."

~*~*~*

_wots this I hear abt u going 2 euro champs?_

_Stephen hadn't heard from Abby for a month or so, but an IM popped up as soon as he logged on._

_yeah. pentathlon in germany in two months. how did u hear?_

_cutter saw it mentioned online somewhere_

_Stephen closed his eyes and counted to ten._

_where?_

_dunno. connor says he showed him how 2 set up google alerts so that's probably it. so tell me more_

_not much 2 tell. i came 2nd in trials and 1st 3 got selected_

_congratulations!_

_ta! so how u doing?_

_same old, same old. connor still got creepy girlfriend. cutter going bonkers. and helen's back._

_shit. how come?_

_who knows? she was very upset 2 find u r not around any more_

_i bet she is. got 2 go. catch u soon._

Stephen took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. He'd almost forgotten that Helen bloody Cutter existed. And she and her bonkers husband were the best reason in the world for escaping from the anomaly project. He wondered if cutting all ties with Abby would be the best thing. He'd feel guilty doing it, but he wanted to be away from all that crap. Now he had the pentathlon to concentrate on he couldn't afford any distractions.

"OK?" Ryan wandered in and kissed the top of his head.

"Fine. Just been chatting to Abby."

"She OK?"

"Same old, same old, apparently. And she says Helen's back."

Ryan grimaced. "I think we're well out of that."

"Yep."

~*~*~*

"So what happens now?" Luci was perched on the desk, hands cupped around a mug of coffee.

"How d'you mean?" Ryan took a sip from his mug and grimaced, handing it to Luci and accepting the un-sugared one in return.

"Presumably Stephen's going to become a full-time athlete now."

"I doubt it. This is pentathlon we're talking about, not cycling or track and field athletics. And most of the training takes place in Bath anyway."

"But he'll have to cut down on what he does here." Luci was watching him unwaveringly.

"Why? It keeps him fit. He can maybe hand over some of his fitness classes to someone else, but he'll want to keep on with the military fitness sessions and the adventure courses."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yep. I'll talk to him about it, but I'll be surprised if he wants to drop out of everything here."

"Is that journalist coming today?"

Ryan nodded. "2pm." It was someone from one of the Bristol papers. Pentathlon was hardly back page news, but a local boy doing well always got some coverage.

"There's an adventure course this week?"

"One of the local schools."

Luci grinned and waggled her eyebrows. "Good luck. You'll need it!"

~*~*~*

"Guys, can we hang on for a moment? This bit's steep and we need to check the access."

Stephen was always amused by how easily Ryan could control a group. It reminded him of Lyle's theory of crowd control – shout loudly and push a lot. But Ryan scarcely needed to raise his voice to have everyone listening to him – including a load of teenagers from an inner city Bristol school. They'd been eating out of his hand by the second day, particularly when they found out he'd been in the army. And they jostled to ride beside him on their mountain bikes and constantly vied for his attention.

Stephen left the group with Brad and the two teachers, and followed Ryan carefully down the path. It was a route they used a lot, but it needed negotiating with care, as heavy rain would wash rocks down onto it.

"Looks like it's OK if we go carefully and in single file. You and Brad go at the back and … Fuck. Is that what I think it is?"

Stephen nodded, dry-mouthed. The anomaly shimmered in front of them. It was a sight he'd hoped never to see again.

"Can you get everyone back to the hostel and I'll phone it in?"

"No way! We're not getting involved. It's nothing to do with us any more."

"Stephen, we can't just ignore it …"

"Of course we fucking can! That part of our life's over."

"But you don't know what's come through it."

"I don't care."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Tom, I don't want to have anything to do with it. You phone it in if you like, but don't expect me to get involved. I'll see you back at the hostel." And he turned his bike round and cycled back to the group. "OK guys, we can't get through this way. So turn round and we'll go the scenic route …"

~*~*~*

"James, it's Ryan."

"Work or pleasure?"

"Work. Stephen and I are in the Brecons and we've just found an anomaly."

"Grid reference, please."

Ryan read it off and could hear Lester tapping away on a keyboard.

"Right, I have it. Perhaps you'd be good enough to stay there until the team arrive."

"Sure."

Ryan settled down with his back against a tree, and took a swig of water from his water bottle. He texted Stephen: 'Spoke 2 Lester. Waiting 4 team 2 arrive. C u soon.' When he hadn't had a response within 30 minutes, he hoped it was because Stephen was shepherding the kids around. Or out of range. Or both.

~*~*~*

He heard the helicopter long before he saw it. When it started to hover low, he had a pretty good idea who'd be on-board. A ladder was thrown down and Ryan watched as a familiar lean figure descended first, followed by a small blonde woman, a stockier man and finally a very hesitant figure who tumbled the last metre or so to the ground.

"Ryan." Lester had managed the descent without rumpling his suit.

"James." They shook hands, even though it was less than a fortnight since they'd last seen each other when Lyle and Lester had spent the weekend in Bristol with them.

"The security team are coming by road, but they've been delayed. In the meantime, perhaps you'd like to brief Professor Cutter and his team."

Ryan nodded and looked across to where the three of them were standing. Abby was first to react. She marched over, hugged him and said: "You look fantastic."

"Thanks. So do you. Love the boots."

She grinned and looked down at her purple Doc Martens. "Great, aren't they? Now, come and see Connor's new gadget."

"Captain … Um, Ryan … Nice to see you." Connor shook hands with him.

"Just Ryan is fine now I'm a civilian. How are you doing, Connor?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He didn't look it, though. Ryan thought that he seemed edgier and almost harder than when he'd last seen him.

Cutter was hanging back, obviously reluctant to approach Ryan. He looked terrible, almost as if life had flattened out all of the former enthusiasm that had bubbled out of him. Even his usually chaotic hair was flat and lifeless.

Ryan nodded to him. "Professor."

"Ca … Ryan. Where's … where's Stephen?"

"Taken the party we were with back to the hostel."

"When's he coming back?"

"He isn't."

"Oh. How long have you been here?"

"The anomaly was open when we found it an hour ago. It hasn't got brighter or fainter in that time, and nothing has come through while I've been watching it."

"Did Stephen check to see if anything had come through before?"

"No."

"Why …?"

"He doesn't want to have anything to do with it."

"But …"

"That part of his life is over, and he wants to forget about it."

"Oh." Cutter looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Before Ryan could reply, two Land Rovers bounced across the rough terrain. They'd barely stopped before two units unloaded. And Ryan stared in dismay at the lead figure who was already directing operations. Fucking hell, HM Government must be desperate if they were hiring a firm led by Alan Dawson. He sucked as a human being and hadn't even been that good a soldier. But he could bullshit for England, which was presumably how he'd got the contract. Ryan recognised several others as ex-services – pretty much all of them the type who'd be at the back of the queue when any kosher firm was recruiting. He wondered if Lester would reveal why Dawson's firm had got the contract. Probably down to cash – Ryan could imagine Dawson undercutting all the competitors and making all manner of promises he'd never be able to keep. He could now see why Lyle had been asking questions.

"Now, Professor, if you're intending to go through this anomaly, you'll be taking me, Todman, Saunders and Knight with you."

Ryan could hear the dislike in Dawson's voice as he addressed Cutter. And he was amazed when Cutter nodded without arguing, meekly following the men through the anomaly.

Abby and Connor were sitting on the grass and fiddling with a piece of kit that looked like something out of Robot Wars. Ryan wandered over to where Lester was standing and said: "How did you manage to substitute Cutter's placid cousin for the original version?"

Lester half-smiled. "I never thought I'd hear myself say that I'd like the stroppy Cutter back."

"What the fuck's going on?"

"For the first year or so after you and Stephen went, he was totally manic. The past six months, it's like he's depressed. He claims he isn't, he's not on the drink, and the doctor says he's fit to work. I could suspend him, but the blighter'd be there the next morning. He spends most of his time at the ARC. In fact, he often sleeps there."

Ryan grimaced. "You sure he hasn't had a nervous breakdown?"

"I'm not sure about anything where Cutter's concerned. The bloody quack we've been lumbered with couldn't find his own backside with a roadmap, so I trust your diagnosis more than his."

"Well, I'm going to leave you to it and get back to our group. You've got my number if you need me."

Lester nodded. "Thanks for phoning it in. I'll be in touch."

Back at the hostel one of the groups had started cooking the evening meal, and the rest, led by Brad, were playing some game that seemed to involve a lot of shouting. Stephen was perched on a bench chatting to Liz, one of the teachers. He caught Ryan's eye and excused himself.

"Well?"

"The cavalry's there, so I sneaked off. I made an interesting discovery about that private security firm, though. It's owned by a total waste of space called Alan Dawson. I can see why Lyle was suspicious."

"Obviously Lester's not that choosy who he works with …"

"Probably got leaned on from above. Nick asked after you."

"Yeah, sure he did. Fuck the lot of them and the dinosaur they rode into town on."

And Ryan was left in no doubt that this was an area to leave well alone.

The meal was a pasta bake that looked a disaster but actually tasted fairly decent. Liz and Mick, the other teacher, directed the washing up, while Brad supervised the mass production of hot chocolate with marshmallows in. Ryan was amused by how these kids, who seemed eternally bothered about how cool they were, could be kept entertained by such ordinary pleasures.

Just after 9pm they dimmed the lights and started telling ghost stories. Ryan waited until the audience was rapt by Mick's tale of a motorcyclist breaking down on a remote country road, delivered in a very broad Bristol accent, before sneaking out. Mobiles had been banned from the communal area except for an hour after tea, and the adults played by the rules as well. Ryan had felt his phone vibrate and thought he should check what was going on.

It was a text from Lester – to the point, as always. Phone me.

"James? It's Ryan."

"When does this course you're leading finish?"

"Tomorrow lunchtime."

"Can you give me directions to the hostel? I need to talk to you and Stephen. I'll be there at 2pm."

~*~*~*

Stephen waited until they were behind closed doors in their room before going ballistic. "For fuck's sake! What were you thinking of, letting us get caught up in all that shit again. Just when we …"

"Stephen, we had to report that anomaly."

"You didn't have to stay, though, or say Lester could come over to do the guilt trip again. I don't want this shit, Tom. I thought we had a new life and new commitments."

"We do, but …"

"I don't want to hear it. You stay and talk to Lester if you want to. I'm going back to Bristol. I'll go on the coach with the kids."

"But …"

"Goodnight, Tom." He stripped his clothes off quickly and crawled into his sleeping bag. When Ryan tried to perch on the edge of the narrow bed and stroke his hair, Stephen flinched away and curled even tighter in on himself.

And as he lay awake, Ryan cursed the single beds and bloody Lester and his sodding project.

~*~*~*

"Where's Stephen?" Lester looked around the hostel dining area.

"Gone back to Bristol."

"But I said …"

"I know what you said, James. But Stephen has no wish to get involved again, and that's his choice."

"I need his expertise."

"So you might, but you won't get it. And don't expect me to be piggy-in-the-middle, because I won't."

Ryan turned to the woman who'd accompanied Lester. She looked to be about 30 and was very smartly, if inappropriately for the terrain, dressed in power suit, high heels and with red lipstick to match.

"And you are …?"

"Jenny Lewis." Her handshake was firm and quick. "I'm looking after PR for the anomaly project."

"Poor you."

Her smile was brief. "James has told me about yours and Stephen's backgrounds."

"So you'll know why he's got no wish to be involved. Not that I think either of us could help in any case."

"I was hoping you'd let me be the judge of that," said Lester sharply.

"Why are you so keen to get him back on-board?"

Lester wandered over to the window and stared out, arms folded and back straight. Eventually he said: "Stephen has a great deal of expertise that's not being utilised …"

"So you've said. But there are plenty of other people around with similar expertise. So why try to press-gang someone who isn't interested?"

"He knows the set-up, he's signed the Official Secrets Act and he knows how to deal with Cutter."

"For god's sake, James, he won't be in the same room as Cutter. You'd be asking for trouble."

"Cutter would work with him again like a shot."

"I'm sure he would, but you've got no chance of Stephen agreeing. There's no trust there for a start, and that's a recipe for disaster when there are lives at stake."

"Abby and Connor would love him to come back. They need someone they can trust and who's behaving rationally."

"Moral blackmail won't work with me, and it won't work with Stephen either."

"Seeing as he won't talk to me, will you at least talk to him about it? I wouldn't ask if the situation hadn't become critical."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. This was as near as Lester was ever likely to get to begging. "No. He's made it clear he's not interested. And I won't do anything that jeopardises the new life Stephen has built for himself. He has his sport to concentrate on now."

"Does he really need you to wrap him in cotton wool, Ryan?"

Ryan counted backwards from ten and resisted the temptation to punch Lester hard. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that. It was a cheap shot and unworthy of you."

"I …"

"I'm sorry I can't help you, Lester. Miss Lewis, I'm sorry we didn't meet under better circumstances." Ryan opened the door and shouted: "Brad, we're done up here."

~*~*~*

It was early evening before Ryan got home. The house was in darkness, although he could tell Stephen had been in, because there was a load of washing in the machine. He dumped his own bag, grabbed a banana and walked down to the gym.

The usual evening crowd were there, and he greeted the familiar faces. Luci saw him and said: "How did it go?"

"Very well. Is Stephen around?"

"He's in the gym. Is he OK? He hasn't said much."

"I think so. I'll go and see him. Anything I need to know about?"

"Nope. There was a problem with one of the showers, but Len sorted it at lunchtime."

"Good." Len was their handyman, a garrulous Welshman who could turn his hand to anything.

The gym was busy, dominated by a load of lads from one of the insurance companies who tended to be a bit noisy. Craig always kept an eye on them.

Stephen was in one corner on the treadmill. From the look on his face he'd been there for a while and was in his own world. And he looked fit to drop.

"Get him off there, will you?" Craig materialised at Ryan's side.

"How long's he been there?"

"Over an hour. Anyone else, and they'd be banned for stupidity. He needs his fucking head examined. What's he trying to do, wreck his training routine?"

"Let me talk to him."

Craig nodded, and Ryan gave thanks for blokes not in touch with their feelings who didn't expect chapter and verse on why someone was behaving like a wanker.

Ryan stood in front of the treadmill so he was right in Stephen's vision. "You're done."

"Not much longer."

"That wasn't a question. It was a statement. Craig's all for banning you for stupidity, and I don't blame him. What sort of example does it set to clients when you're pounding yourself into the ground and not paying any attention? And Jack'll go apeshit if he finds out." Stephen's coach was a big, bluff Devonian who took no crap off anyone.

"Fuck off."

"Stephen, I'm counting down from ten. If you don't slow that machine down now, I'm throwing the master switch and the whole fucking building'll cut out."

"Fuck you!"

"Yep. Do it."

They glared at each other for a moment or so, then Stephen slowed the machine down. After five minutes he was walking on it, but Ryan could see his legs were about to go.

"You going to be OK?"

"Of course I am." But his eyes were downcast and he staggered as he got off the treadmill.

Ryan went to grab him, but Stephen shrank back. "Don't touch me. I'm fine." He picked up his towel and water bottle, and went through the door marked 'staff only' to where the staff showers and rest area were.

Ryan put the kettle on and made coffee while Stephen was in the shower. He longed to go through and to get in there with him and hold him, but he knew Stephen would freak out. Shit, what a fucking mess. He could kill Lyle and Lester and the fucking ARC.

Stephen appeared about 15 minutes later. He was moving stiffly and looked exhausted.

"Shall I get the car?"

"Of course not. I'm fine."

"And you're a stubborn fucker as well."

Stephen managed a half-smile. "Takes one to know one."

Once they were back at the flat, Ryan frogmarched Stephen to the bedroom, made him strip off, and searched the bathroom cabinet for massage oil.

"What are you looking for?" Stephen sounded like he was half-asleep.

"I'm going to give you a massage and try to undo some of the damage you've just done."

"I'll be …"

"Change the record!"

Stephen's shoulders and back were tense and his calves knotted. Ryan worked on him for getting on for 45 minutes. He then let Stephen nap for about half an hour before kissing him awake.

Stephen sat up instantly, staring around him. "What time is it? Did I …?"

"You slept for 30 minutes. Stay where you are. I've got a snack for us."

Ryan arranged the pillows so Stephen could sit up, the duvet pulled almost to his chin. He looked terrible – very pale and washed out. Ryan sat beside him and they ate sandwiches and fruit.

"Better?"

Stephen nodded. "Thanks. And I'm sorry about earlier."

"Apologise to Craig tomorrow. He was fit to be tied."

Stephen looked away. "I will. I'm sorry … What happened with …?"

"Sent the fucker away with a flea in his ear. He got arsy when you weren't there and I said you had no intention of getting involved. He then …" Ryan hesitated.

"Go on."

"He asked me why I was wrapping you in cotton wool."

"Fucker!"

"My view, pretty much. So I showed him and his power-dressing PR minion the door. He wasn't amused."

"I bet he wasn't."

"He was pushing his luck all through. I nearly said I was only there for Lyle's sake."

"So who's the PR wizard?"

"Woman called Jenny Lewis. All stiletto heels, shoulder pads and bright red lipstick."

"Bloody hell, wonder where she was parachuted in from."

"No idea. Bound to be some Home Office climber. Right, I'll have a shower and then d'you want to watch a film?"

"Sounds good."

"Choose something you fancy, then."

They watched Ne Le Dis A Personne, some French adaptation of an American thriller. It was fine, but Ryan could sense Stephen was distracted.

"You want to watch something else?"

"This is OK …"

But Ryan suspected neither of them could have given a decent plot synopsis once the film had finished. He pulled Stephen closer and kissed the top of his head. "D'you want anything else to eat or drink?"

"No thanks." Stephen curled up so his head was resting on Ryan's chest. Gently Ryan stroked his hair.

"Tom …"

"Yeah?"

"You've never wrapped me in cotton wool. You've just loved me …"

"I know. It's just Lester doing what he does best, being a twat."

"D'you think I am being unreasonable about it? Why can't he see that I don't need them any more?"

"It's your choice and you know I'll always support you in what you do." He weighed up saying that he thought Stephen had let his hatred of Cutter and the anomalies project get out of proportion, but decided this wasn't the time to deal with that can of worms

"What do you want to do?"

"Nothing. Lester knows the risks of his job. I can't do anything to help him."

"I don't understand why he's so keen to get me back. There are enough people around UK universities with more expertise than me who could be press-ganged into the project."

"I bet they can't shoot or track like you, or deal with bloody Cutter."

"God, they'd never be able to pay anyone enough for that!" Stephen seemed about to say something else, but instead traced his forefinger the length of Ryan's cock, which hardened in an instant. He whispered: "What d'you want me to do, Tom? Shall I suck it, or do you want to fuck me?"

And Ryan, as always, felt that tiny pang of regret that Stephen couldn't make sex spontaneous. "I don't mind. Anything we do is sensational …"

Stephen smiled, some of the tension in his tired face dispersing, and he reached over to the bedside table for the lubricant. He held it out to Ryan and said hesitantly: "Do you want to get us ready?"

Ryan smiled back, counting this as progress. "You bet."

Stephen went to turn onto his stomach, but Ryan stopped him, easing him over onto his back. Stephen was staring up at him out of intense blue eyes, and Ryan leaned over and kissed him. He then licked a trail down Stephen's throat and chest, pausing to chew gently on his nipples.

"Will you …?" Stephen's voice was hoarse.

Ryan knew immediately what he wanted and reached under the bed for their box of sex toys. Stephen gasped as the nipple clamps were snapped on.

"OK?"

Stephen nodded, biting his lip. Ryan knew that his tits were very sensitive and that he'd wriggle and moan until the clamps came off.

Ryan continued his exploration, tonguing Stephen's cock and balls on the way past, until he reached his goal. It had taken a while for Stephen to be comfortable with Ryan rimming him, but now he couldn't get enough of the insistent tongue opening him up.

"Tom … please …"

Ryan enjoyed this bit, where Stephen began to beg, corkscrewing his body so that Ryan's tongue was driven deeper inside him. He was trembling and his long fingers clutched the sheets.

Eventually Ryan sat back to enjoy the sight of Stephen, eyes closed and sweat forming on his brow, spreading his legs wide and begging Ryan to fuck him. His hole was wet and relaxed, and his cock was bobbing against his stomach as he writhed.

Ryan stroked a handful of lube down his own cock and then watched it disappear into Stephen's body with the minimum of pressure.

"How's that feel?" Ryan leaned over and kissed Stephen.

"Amazing. I'm full …" Stephen's voice was hoarse and congested, and he began to stroke his cock in time to Ryan's deep thrusts. He looked so beautiful with his hair standing up in spikes and his long eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks.

Ryan flicked the nipple clamps and smiled as Stephen swore and wriggled. And god, now the little devil was clenching tight around him, knowing that Ryan wouldn't last any time at all when he did that. Ryan shouted out as he came, pitching forward onto Stephen's chest.

When he'd collected his wits again he sat up, still buried deep in Stephen's hot, tight body. As always Stephen had come from being fucked hard, the evidence obvious on his stomach and chest. His eyes were closed and his breathing harsh.

"OK?"

Stephen opened one eye. "Good job I'm not riding tomorrow …"

Ryan laughed and removed the clamps from Stephen's nipples, soothing the sting with licks and kisses. "Well, in that case …"

~*~*~*

"What the fucking hell did you say to Lester earlier? He's been totally objectionable ever since he got home."

"Hello Jon." Ryan rolled his eyes at Stephen, who mouthed something particularly impolite. It was almost 1am and they'd been asleep for about half an hour before the phone woke them.

"Well?"

"It's more what he said to me …" Ryan recounted the conversation.

Lyle swore softly. "I'm sorry, mate. I know he's got a bastard sharp tongue on him at the best of times, but this ain't the best of times …"

"D'you know what's going on?"

"Not really, aside from the fact that it sounds like the dirty tricks brigade are out in force."

"He must be used to it by now." God, how many times had he and Lyle had this conversation?

"Yeah, but there's something weird going on."

"Weird how?" Ryan lay back against the pillow, resigned to getting the full saga.

"I'm not sure exactly, but it's something to do with that security firm."

"Come on, Jon, that's cock-up and not conspiracy theory. Alan Dawson couldn't wank one-handed with a 15-minute start."

"I wouldn't be so sure. There's an interesting paper trail for his business …"

"Let me guess, you've been calling in some debts."

"Yeah." Lyle sounded shifty.

"Have you told Lester what you've found?"

"Not yet. There's still a couple of pieces missing. And he's being very careful about making everything look like it's above board."

"Maybe because it is?"

"It fucking isn't! A poxy firm run by a no-hoper fuckwit like Dawson doesn't suddenly get some top-secret government contract without greasing palms somewhere."

"Which is why you need to tell Lester. He's got better contacts in that area than you."

"Maybe. See you." And Lyle put the phone down.

~*~*~*

"Well done, Stephen!"

"You did well. When's the next one?"

"It'll be the Olympics next …"

Stephen smiled and accepted the hugs and congratulations from the military fitness group. They were a tight-knit gathering, who celebrated each other's successes fiercely.

He and Ryan had got back from Germany at midnight, but were still up to meet the group on the Downs at 10am, and he was still in something of a daze. Third in the European Championships and suddenly his life seemed to have gone mad. He now had a coach and a strict fitness routine, and the possibility of some lottery money to prepare him for the World Championships in two years' time. It all seemed like some strange dream.

The group dispersed at noon with plans to meet on the Wednesday night for an Indian to celebrate Stephen's medal, the engagement of group members Tris and Sarah and also the fact Dai, Tris's best mate and one of the first people to join the fitness group, had a new job.

Stephen and Ryan walked back home, stopping on the way to collect pasta and fresh pesto from their favourite Italian delicatessen. They ate it on the balcony, watching the usual Saturday afternoon activity below them.

"You going to have a sleep?" asked Ryan, dividing the last bit of pasta between them.

"I'm fine for the moment, thanks. I might go for a run later."

Ryan nodded. He reached out and touched Stephen's cheek. "My hero," he said quietly.

"Don't be daft!" Stephen entwined his fingers with Ryan's, kissing his palm.

"I'm not. You deserve every second of your success. And just look what you've got to aim for – the Worlds, then the Olympics."

Stephen frowned. "I'm going to give it one hell of a go, but I think I'll be too old for the Olympics. I'll be 36 …" He tried to sound matter-of-fact, and hoped Ryan couldn't detect the sadness beneath.

"You're in fantastic shape and you can keep that up. You can do it, I know you can."

"I hope so. I just wish I'd started this ten years ago. Giving up the shooting and fencing were the worst decisions I ever made. Well, second-worst after getting tangled up with Nick fucking Cutter …"

"Easy to be wise with hindsight. And you've done some bloody amazing things in your life that others never will."

"I suppose so …"

"I just want you to know how proud I am of you and all that you've achieved."

"Tom, I couldn't have done it without you. You've believed in me when anyone else would have given up. None of this would have happened if I hadn't met you … I owe you everything."

~*~*~*

"You any idea why Lyle's playing silly fuckers?" Ditzy pushed a pint across the table to him.

"All I know is that he reckons the security firm working on the ARC project is crooked, so he's asking lots of questions."

"Shouldn't Lester be doing that?"

"That's what I said."

Ditzy humphed, and took a large bite out of a cheese and onion sandwich. The assembled gathering grimaced, and Blade muttered about bad breath and keeping the vampires away.

"That's garlic. And they don't have vampires in Kidderminster."

"Too many slopey foreheads instead …"

"Bit rich coming from a bloody sheep-shagger!"

"What time's kick-off?" asked Ryan hurriedly. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the match. He was a dyed-in-the-wool rugby man and soccer bored him senseless. And Kidderminster Harriers v Ebbsfleet Utd was hardly going to be Match of the Day material.

"Three. We're OK for 20 minutes."

Ryan ate his sandwich and listened to the lads bantering and sniping as usual. Stephen was away in Manchester for a training camp, so it had seemed a good chance to go and catch up with the Hereford crew. Ditzy had taken this as carte blanche to fulfil his social secretary role and fill seemingly every minute of the weekend with activities. And Ryan noted dryly that this left very little time for talking. When he'd asked Kermit earlier whether he'd applied for the college course yet, he got a non-committal reply. So Ryan took the hint and decided to keep schtum.

~*~*~*

Ditzy's spare room was small and over-heated. Ryan had opened the window, but still couldn't sleep. He glanced at his watch – it was nearly 3am. They'd gone for a curry after the match and hadn't got back to Hereford until getting on for midnight.

His mobile phone ringing made him jump. He grabbed it, wondering whether it was Stephen and unable to suppress a cold feeling in his stomach.

"Mr Ryan?" The voice was female.

"Yes."

"I'm Joey, a nurse at St Thomas's Hospital in London. Jon Lyle has just been admitted, and your name was on his phone as the person to contact in case of an emergency."

The cold feeling engulfed his body. "What's happened to him? How is he?"

"He was found unconscious in an alleyway. He's been operated on and he's now in intensive care."

"I'm in Hereford, so it'll take me a couple of hours to get to you. I'm leaving now."

Ryan dressed quickly and packed his rucksack. As he was making his way downstairs, Ditzy appeared. He possessed that military ability to go from asleep to wide awake in about half a minute.

"What is it? What's happened? It's not Stephen, is it?"

"Lyle's been found unconscious in an alleyway. He's in hospital in London."

"Bad?"

"Intensive care."

"Shit. Shall I drive you?"

"Nope. You stay here and I'll phone as soon as I know anything."

"I'll try to get hold of Preston. I think he's away for the weekend."

"OK. He needs to know."

~*~*~*

Ryan arrived at the hospital just after 5am. As he was about to get into the lift, Preston materialised beside him.

"Sir."

"Ryan. What the fuck's going on?"

"All I know is that Jon was found unconscious in an alleyway, they've operated on him and he's in intensive care."

"How come they called you first?"

"Apparently I'm the person to contact in case of emergency on his mobile."

"Why not Lester?"

"I don't know." Shit, Ryan had forgotten all about Lester, focussed as he had been on getting up to London fast. They hadn't spoken since the meeting in the hostel. "I'll phone him in a minute."

"What about his family?"

"No idea." Ryan knew little about Lyle's family, except that his parents were divorced and both lived abroad.

"What the fuck was he doing in London?"

"Don’t know, sir."

"Not hanging around bloody pubs or clubs, was he? I thought he and Lester …"

"I doubt it," said Ryan shortly.

"He's been acting bloody strangely the past few weeks. Every time I ask him what's going on, he says nothing."

Ryan hesitated, and Preston raised his eyebrows. "Come on Ryan, I want to know what the fuck's going on."

"Let's go and see Lyle. Then I'll tell you what I know."

"Good. I'm not having people playing silly fuckers on my watch." Preston strode into the intensive care unit and stared around. "Ah, good morning, matron. I'm Major Graham Preston, Lieutenant Lyle's commanding officer, and this is his friend Tom Ryan, who received the call to say he'd been attacked. May we see him and then talk to the doctor?"

"Of course. He's still unconscious, though. And I'll call Dr Dermody for you, Major." The nurse clearly realised that she was dealing with an immovable force and ushered them over to the far corner of the unit.

And as Ryan stared at his best mate, who was hooked up to tubes and whose swollen and bruised face was unrecognisable, he realised that whatever was happening with the anomaly project had just become personal again.


End file.
